"Taking Care of Poopsie" OS Weekend Fiction

The tiny dog was annoying to most people. He barked and shit all over the yards along the street where the old lady walked him every day. She had a cane and was too stiff to bend over and pick up the poop. In her generation no one had to do that. She really didn't realize there was a law about it nowdays.

An old character in the neighborhood is loved by everyone if they can show they are friendly and interesting. Miss Bloom was her name and she came up with all kinds of interesting stories whenever she saw a neighbor in their yard.

"I used to plant those Jimson plants in my yard but then I read where they are poison and used in hallucinogenic drugs. " She was a little loopy. Rumor had it that she was a hippy in the sixties. The neighbors were predominatly young yuppies and they didn't have time for her. They usually brushed off her comments but sometimes they found themselves drawn into her tales of another more laid back time.

She seemed to know quite a bit about cultivating marijuana. Dennis was single and had a high power job in the city. He wasn't home much but he found himself drawn to this lady when she paused by his yard on her walks. He liked her easy smile which was so different than the forced laughter he heard at work all day from the young ladies trying to make points with him. He actually found himself talking to her about pot.

"Have you ever tried it?" she asked him one sunny Spring day. It was early on a Saturday and he was all abuzz with the energy he usually put into his job. He didn't know how to relax from it on the weekends. He looked at the lady with her little dog 'Poopsie' and realized she had something he needed. Calm.

As he accompanied her to her back yard he took Poopsie's leash and let him lead the way. The three of them walked slowly as Poopsie sniffed every tree trunk and garden fence. They even stopped to smell a particularly beautiful patch of red roses and they weren't even stoned yet.

Comments

"They even stopped to smell a particularly beautiful patch of red roses and they weren't even stoned yet."

I get that. I don't get high anymore (don't want to wind up in an Idaho prison) but the reason I liked it was I'm the kind of person who likes to stop and smell the roses. Fabulous story, you captured that difference very well.